


Crown

by fade131



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, M/M, Road Trip, Space Pirates, pls tell me if theres something i should tag this is literally a mess im sorry, prostitution briefly, relatively vague sex, some death obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fade131/pseuds/fade131
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you,” Himchan says softly, looking down at their joined hands. Daehyun can hear others in another room, talking about their last performance, their next one. The dorm seems oddly quiet otherwise, and Himchan’s fingers are warm and solid between his. Daehyun feels cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for last week's [B.A.P Bingo Challenge](http://bapbingochallenge.tumblr.com/) prompt, Reincarnation AU. 
> 
> Sorry this is late OTL I hope it is enjoyable at least a little bit it was fun to write

_“I love you,” Himchan says softly, looking down at their joined hands. Daehyun can hear others in another room, talking about their last performance, their next one. The dorm seems oddly quiet otherwise, and Himchan’s fingers are warm and solid between his. Daehyun feels cold._

_“I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, thinking about how he felt up on stage, the elation, the cheering of the crowd, how he’d crashed back to earth when Himchan’s hand had pulled from his grip, when they’d left the performance as a group but separately. He had wanted to reach for him, to hold on. He hates hiding._

_“Can’t do this?” Himchan repeats, incredulous, too loud, eyes widening and Daehyun looks at him finally, at the thin bow of his lips and the sharp angle of his cheekbones, at the deep black pools of his eyes. Daehyun pulls his hand away._

_The next day, on stage again, he waits for that feeling, for the rush, the high, for the music to sweep him away._

_It never comes._

Daehyun wakes in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his ears, the dream already slipping through his fingers. It’s like this almost every night, only the dreams are different. At least, he thinks they might be.

His rooms are bathed in soft pink predawn sunlight, filtered and dimmed by the curtains. Still he can make out clearly the familiar pieces of his room, the high arch of the door and the broad pane of mirrored glass on the wall, his dresser and wardrobe and the comfortable chair by the windows. It’s been his room for only a month, but it feels like an age, an eternity of early mornings and fretful nights, of waiting and wishing the time to flow faster.

Now, though, the day is finally here.

His girl Sunhwa comes in soon, pleased to see him already awake – she throws open his curtains to let in the first golden rays of morning, then pulls open his wardrobe to take out his clothes for the day. He pulls himself out of bed with difficulty and lets her wash and dress him, wrap him in silks and satin and paint his face, drape him with gold and jewels. When he looks in the tall mirror, he both does and does not recognize himself – these are his expressive eyes, his full lips, his golden skin, but accentuated by the bright red silks and thick black kohl he thinks he looks like someone else.

Later, on the dais, in front of the temple, Daehyun feels like every inch of his skin is on fire from the stares, the whispers. His Royal Highness Prince Himchan stands in front of him, composed and serene, the slightest smile on his almost-familiar lips, going through the motions of the ceremony as if he had always meant to stand here with Daehyun, as if they’ve known each other and chosen each other and not been thrown together for the sake of an alliance. When it comes, the kiss is sweet and slow, and when they part Daehyun’s eyes are drawn to the darker red smeared on Himchan’s lips.

He wonders if it will be like that later. If the kisses will be gentle or hungry, if Himchan’s peace with their fate will one day be sincere instead of fraud. He wonders.

_He wakes groggy and slow, the proximity alert blaring in his ears. The dreams linger, vibrant and bright, but they always do. He pushes it away, feet dropping down from where he’d propped them on the instrument panel, leaning in close to see what’s happening on his sensors. He can hear something else, under the alarms, the awful grate of metal on metal, but he ignores it. One problem at a time._

_Daehyun wonders what dream it was – he doesn’t remember this one, doesn’t remember being dressed up and paraded out for a marriage, but then it felt like the beginning of a story, and he’s so used to endings. He remembers one about a prince, remembers Himchan brought back to him on a litter after battle, his thin face pale and his lips bloodless, the ragged holes in his armor. He remembers not reaching him in time to say goodbye. Perhaps it was that lifetime, or another. Perhaps he’ll dream the ending tomorrow – that happens sometimes. Ever since he lost them, lost him, all the dreams have been vivid._

_There’s a Federal Cruiser coming up behind their little ship, fast but not so fast, lumbering in its own ponderous enormity. Daehyun curses under his breath and flips a dozen switches, fingers flying over the controls – gripping the handles he pushes the ship to accelerate toward a jump, but the ship groans, handles shuddering violently in his grip, and the engines wail so loud he wonders if their tail can hear them._

_The intercom gives him a line to the engine room but it’s only Youngjae cursing, banging, struggling for a long moment before he hears the little chirp paging him._

_“Jae, we need to get out of here or we’re toast. Can you give me anything?”_

_There’s silence for a moment, like the black of space Daehyun’s staring into, then: “We’re dead in the water, Captain. But I’m working on it.”_

_Daehyun doesn’t bother responding, leaving the line open. He doesn’t correct Youngjae either – he’s not a captain, he’s just a flyboy. This was Yongguk’s ship, Himchan’s ship, but they’re dead now, they’ve been dead for a long time. Just like Junhong, and Jieun, and Sungwon. All dead and gone, and only them left._

_The cruiser looms larger on his sensors, taking up more and more space. Behind him he hears footsteps, someone climbing the metal stairs up into the cockpit, and Hyoseong plops down in the navigator’s seat beside him._

_“Why aren’t we moving?”_

_“Nothing to move,” he says. Youngjae curses over the intercom, and the engines go dead. He can feel the first pull of the cruiser’s tractor beams, dragging them out of their flagging course, reeling them in. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of a way out, y’know? We always do.”_

_“What if there’s no way out?” she asks, and he feels his skin tingle all over. They’ve come about now, the deep black star field slowly obscured by the hulk of the cruiser. Almost within range, he thinks. Almost._

_“Maybe we gotta stop running,” she says, pulling her headphones on. He can hear the bubblepop pouring out the tinny speakers, loud in the silence._

_“Maybe it’s time to let the dream end.”_

On a train, they meet for bare minutes, sitting in the same compartment, and it’s only after Himchan’s gotten up to go that Daehyun remembers him from the dreams. They are promised to marry in a dozen lives, and in a hundred more they die, each before the other, never saying what they mean to say. In some worlds they never meet, in others Himchan is dead long before Daehyun lives.

It is hardest when Daehyun cannot find him, when the dreams torment him but never give him a face, a name. Again and again they come close, they hold each other tight, only to be pulled apart. Daehyun likes it best when Himchan does not know him at all – likes watching him fall in love with Yongguk, with Jongup, with Hyeri, likes watching him content with no love or as much love as he can get, likes when Himchan is happy.

_He paid for this, but Daehyun doesn’t want his money. He’s never seen Himchan before in this life, looked for him but never found him, and now without looking at all Himchan is here._

_In his cheap motel room, pressing him down against rough sheets – Himchan is out of place here, with his clean, tailored suit and his expensive car, out of place in the space that Daehyun’s clients normally fill. They are rough and dispassionate, angry and hollow, cruel and mannerless despite their wealth and status. Himchan is gentle. Himchan’s hands touch his tanned, scarred skin like he’s something precious, something valuable, and Himchan’s lips taste like a thousand kisses he never dared let himself steal. Himchan doesn’t let him prep himself but opens him up with steady fingers and Daehyun doesn’t have to pretend he likes it like this._

_When Himchan pushes inside him, the tears come, and he hides his face in the pillows, hands fisting in the sheets, hoping his moans will cover up the sobs welling in his chest._

_It is not fast, it is not desperate. Himchan takes his time, fucks him slow and deep and thorough, makes Daehyun come apart under his hands. When he’s done, his release sticky and hot on Daehyun’s back, he pulls himself together as easily as he pulls his neatly pressed jacket back onto his shoulders. By the time he’s clean and dressed, Daehyun has regained some sense of himself._

_Himchan leaves the money on the dresser. There’s no recognition in his eyes, and this is the first time that Daehyun thinks to wonder if Himchan dreams of him too._

It is summertime.

The dreams are easiest in summer, hazy shapes in the blazing heat. Daehyun ignores them. He doesn’t understand them, anyway.

They take Yongguk’s car and drive, all six of them, even little Junhong who’s only just eighteen and gangly and angry, even though they don’t really all fit and Daehyun often ends up on Jongup’s lap. They drive all day, and spend nights in hotels three to a bed, and eat bad takeout in the car.

Some days they stop, at public parks and beaches, at empty open fields. Junhong kisses him behind a jut of rock, the waves rushing around their ankles, shy fingers clutching at his shirt. Youngjae holds his hand as they walk across an unsteady bridge, fingers tangled so tight with his that Daehyun can still feel them after they let go. He sits in Yongguk’s lap and feels him tense, wonders for a moment if he could get a real reaction, if he could get more. He sleeps in the car curled up against Jongup’s muscular chest, comfy and safe.

And then there's Himchan.

They sneak out of the hotel at night to watch the stars, lying on the roof of the war, fingers tangled together. Himchan kisses him in the shower, strong fingers threading through his wet hair, pressing him back against cold wet tiles. Himchan teases him for singing loudly to the music in the car, and makes sure to turn it down when he drifts off. Himchan sleeps at his back, palm warm against his stomach, and between him and Youngjae Daehyun never feels cold. Himchan tells him secrets in the early morning, and listens to all of Daehyun’s worries on quiet evenings when uncertainty catches up with him. Himchan is strong for him, and Himchan trusts him, and Daehyun thinks he’s never felt like this, not in a thousand years.

One night they’re all lying under stars, Yongguk pointing out constellations to Youngjae, Junhong fast asleep against Jongup’s stomach. Himchan’s fingers thread together with his, and he nuzzles against Daehyun’s temple, content.

“I love you,” Daehyun whispers into the quiet, and Himchan’s grip on him tightens so much that it hurts.

“I love you too,” Himchan breathes against his skin, and then they’re kissing and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the warmth, except here and now, except being as close as they can get. A universe of different choices opens up in Daehyun’s chest, a hundred thousand heartbreaks, countless lonely nights and cold tears, and he realizes that he’s sobbing, that Himchan is kissing his cheeks, that the others have gone quiet. It doesn’t seem to matter, nothing matters, only Himchan’s lips and those words in his voice, I love yous whispered over and over against his skin, stitching him back together and making him whole.

_“I love you,” Himchan says softly, looking down at their joined hands. Daehyun can hear others in another room, talking about their last performance, their next one. The dorm seems oddly quiet otherwise, and Himchan’s fingers are warm and solid between his. Daehyun feels his heart flutter in his chest, nervous and bold._

_“I love you too,” he whispers, thinking about how he felt up on stage, the elation, the cheering of the crowd, how he’d crashed back to earth when Himchan’s hand had pulled from his grip, when they’d left the performance as a group but separately. He had wanted to reach for him, to hold on. He hates hiding. “Hyung, we shouldn’t… hide anymore. From them, I mean. They’d understand.”_

_Himchan is still staring at their hands, but he looks up now, meeting Daehyun’s eyes. His uncertainty is so familiar, but so is his bravery, so is the warm ring of Yongguk’s laughter in the next room and the hushed whisper of Youngjae talking and the shuffle of Junhong’s feet on tile and the steady beat of music coming through Jongup’s door. This is where they belong, and Daehyun thinks they could belong here together._

_The next day, on stage again, he chases that feeling, the rush, the high, the music sweeping him away, struggling against half-forgotten dreams and barely understood worries._

_Himchan smiles at him across the stage, and Daehyun lets it all go._


End file.
